


The Incentive

by AlternateBubblegum



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi most of all but now he can, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Friendship, Ren is hot and everyones dying to see under those clothes, Sexting, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Teasing, Texting, group chats off the rails, lewd photos sent to the wrong person, more like Friends to Enemies to Lovers but all 3 at once, my Ann bias really jumped out here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternateBubblegum/pseuds/AlternateBubblegum
Summary: When Ren checks her phone again, she finds some unexpected texts from Akechi."If my earlier question annoyed you, Ren, you could have simply told me that.""Although, I’m curious. Do you typically use suggestive photos as a means to incite your friends into doing what you want?"Ren’s mouth drops open even before she scrolls back up to check—Oh.And there it is—the picture. Sitting right there.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ! Some important notes and disclaimers before the story !
> 
> First and foremost: I definitely do *not* condone underage lewd photo taking. Been there, done that, should have waited to be legal because the world is not a safe place and there’s not much safety on the Web for minors. So please don’t come away from this fic thinking I share the opinions of the characters. Not worth it, for realsies!
> 
> Second: I took direct inspiration from another fic on this site, called “Misfire” by BocchanLucifer, so be sure to check that one out, too! It even features original artwork by the author! 
> 
> Third: I dropped the use of honorifics in this story because it’s the first one where I haven’t used the game script to frame the plot, and everything I write is filtered through my narrow American lens. I didn’t want to be annoyingly inconsistent with details, so I just uh… left em out here. Which is too bad, because Haru esp. is super cute when she refers to them by nicknames (Mako-chan~). 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

The attic above Leblanc is a commotion of squeals, laughter, and flailing limbs—the last element courtesy of Futaba, who is practically vibrating after the astonishing number of energy drinks she’d packed away into her tiny frame. 

Ann is sprawled out stomach-first on the floor, flipping through a fashion magazine she’d brought with her and chirping out suggestions to the others: “Hey, Haru, this pastel spring look would suit you _perfectly!"_ or “Ren, check out the makeup on this model! You should let me wing your eyeliner like this.” 

Haru, meanwhile, is perched delicately on Ren’s couch, inspecting the light green polish Ann has just applied to her fingernails with a warm smile. Beside her, Makoto still holds herself a bit awkwardly, though she is not quite as stiff as when the night had first begun. Ren suspects that the student council president had prepped conversation starters hours in advance, as evidenced by the immediate questioning she’d begun once the girls were comfortably settled into Ren’s room. “So… how was everyone’s trip here?” she’d asked, clasping her hands a little too tightly in her lap to seem nonchalant. “The trains seemed less crowded than usual.”

Makoto’s question had quickly been knocked out of the way by Futaba’s excited _ooh'_ s over some anime ad that had flashed across the TV, and then Ann had immediately launched into a probing of everyone’s secret crushes—game over for Makoto’s safely drawn plans. 

Which was too bad for Ren, really, when the others had united in a shared curiosity over her _very interesting_ relationship with a certain Goro Akechi. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d pumped her for details, and she doubted it was the last time she’d dodge their questions, either. 

The sleepover had been Ann’s idea, unsurprisingly; she’d started a new chat log for just the girls of the group, begging to have a night all to themselves to “let loose, have fun, and talk about boys~!♥”

**~ The Phantom Babes~**

**Futaba:** (╯°□°）╯

 **Futaba:** ヽ(°□°ヽ)

 **Futaba:** ＼( °□° )／

 **Futaba:** heteronormativity! aghh! my eyes burn!!

 **Ann:** what? no! i wasn’t just assuming—

 **Ann:** i mean, it doesn’t have to just be boys!!! 

**Haru:** So you would like us to meet up and… discuss our love interests, Ann?

 **Ann:** well, yeah! isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do?

 **Ann:** we could have a sleepover! eat food, talk about cute PEOPLE.

 **Makoto:** I suppose… these types of conversations are a good indicator of close friendships. But where would we host such an event? 

**Futaba:** … 

**Futaba:** has anyone here ever actually _been_ to a sleepover?

* * *

Ren smiles at the memory of how they’d floundered to come up with a collective plan. Despite being so different from one another (and from completely different backgrounds), they’d all been pretty awkward trying to organize whatever constituted as a “real girl’s night.” She herself couldn’t remember the last sleepover she’d been to—maybe when she was eight? 

Morgana had even been kind enough to volunteer staying with Ryuji for the night (well—“volunteer” was a generous word to call it. In truth, he’d huffed and pouted for days after Ren had mentioned the sleepover idea, until finally claiming that he would _valiantly_ make himself scarce, like a _true gentleman_ ). 

Ren had kept her phone turned all the way up, just in case Ryuji suddenly called to make a death threat on their feline-shaped friend. 

“Ohmigosh!” Ann exclaims, snatching at her magazine with a flurry of rustling pages. “Listen to this! A _clothed_ nude photo can actually rile your partner up more effectively than sending off a picture in your birthday suit, since the promise of ripping off some teasing layers—”

“A-Ann!” Makoto interrupts the blonde’s reading, cheeks already flushing with color. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s a boudoir guide!” Ann waves the open spread in her hand around, as if that will make them magically understand. “Tips on how to take sexy pictures!” She sees the other girls exchange bewildered glances at each other and sighs theatrically. “Seriously, isn’t taking sexy pics, like, a staple of our culture?”

“W-what culture is _that?"_ Makoto shoots back.

Haru nods serenely, though her face, too, is coated by a slight blush. “I’ve heard girls in my classes talk about the responses they’ve received to such… erm, images.” 

“Ann, are you bringing this up for a specific reason?” Ren asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“Whoa, scandalous!” Futaba leers from the bed, dropping her Featherman figure in lieu of seizing on a new target. “A whole vault of lewdie nudies? I never would have guessed!”

Ann squeaks in response, her face reddening to match the hue of her Metaverse outfit. “N-no way! ...Not a whole vault…”

That, of course, creates a whole new racket as they react to Ann’s admission. Ren is suddenly, intensely grateful that Sojiro had gone home a couple of hours prior; she really doesn’t want to imagine the lecture he’d storm up to impart if he could hear them now. 

“-and it's _totally_ natural to want to feel confident in your own skin!” Ann finishes arguing, pointing her finger at each girl in turn as she talks. “In fact, it’s empowering!”

“What could be so empowering about breaking the law?” Makoto murmurs. When the others turn to give her significant stares, she blanches, immediately backtracking. “I-I mean, not in the _Phantom Thief_ way... but there really are all kinds of issues with circulating these types of photos, you know!” 

“Who said anything about circulating?” Ann says. “It could be something you do just for yourself, too!” 

She retrieves the forgotten magazine with a flourish and begins again to read aloud from the article. “Don a loose cardigan, jacket, or some other type of casual outerwear and let it slip loosely off of one shoulder while you angle your-”

“Like this?” Haru asks, surprising everyone as she unzips her jacket and copies Ann’s instructions, letting the left arm slump ungracefully down to her bicep. 

“Hm…” is all Ren offers. 

“Looks like you’re going to get a shot from the doc,” Futaba snickers. 

Ann shakes her head. “No, no, you’ve gotta _feel_ confident, otherwise it just looks… well…”

“Ah.” Haru actually looks disappointed, slowly pulling the zipper back up and shuffling her sleeve into place. “I suppose I didn’t have the right attitude for a seduction.” 

That startles a genuine laugh from Ren, the sound of it swallowed up by the other girls joining in. They tease at the conversation for a bit longer before changing into their pajamas and eventually—after much more whispering and jeering—drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

The next day, Ren has a crick in her neck she just can’t seem to stretch out.

She’d voluntarily taken the floor as her resting place last night, along with Ann, though she’d made sure her friend had a pallet and a thicker blanket. Haru occupied the couch, while Makoto had, apologetically, claimed Ren’s modest bed. 

They’d each offered Ren a little more comfort, whether an additional pillow or cover, but Ren had waved them off. “I’ve used my bag as a headrest before,” she’d reassured them. “It’s really no biggie.” 

A night’s worth of sleep, however, hadn’t been nearly as comfortable as the quick little nap she’d judged that assumption off of. 

Her friends had gone home after a curry breakfast, and Morgana had shown up even earlier, extra grouchy from the time spent with Ryuji. Luckily, the presence of the other girls had helped calm him down—Haru in particular had been of great assistance, gently stroking Morgana’s back and easing his complaints with her sweet voice. 

Now, the not-cat is resting upstairs, and Ren is catching her breath in the cafe’s bathroom. 

She’d just finished mopping the store and isn’t sure what to do with herself now, stuck in that strange in-between of restlessness and sleep deprivation that makes a person feel downright antsy. She’s already wiped down the counters and restocked the coffee shelves, but it’s proving to be an especially slow day; only two customers had wandered in so far, the elderly regulars who like to sit and chat over their single cups (a habit that, Ren has noticed, drives Sojiro up the wall). 

The cafe owner himself had run out for some errands, muttering about the state of small businesses these days and how “people just don’t appreciate quality.” That left Ren to man the fort alone, not that she minds. She sort of wishes customers _would_ walk in, just to give her something to do and dispel the notion of going upstairs to collapse into her bed. 

Last night had been fun, but she’s tired. Besides Morgana, who hardly counts in these types of scenarios, Ren isn’t used to socializing for long periods of time. 

It doesn’t really help that the topic of sexy pictures is somehow _still_ raging on. 

  
  


**~ The Phantom Babes~**

**Haru** : I was thinking about all the advice you gave last night, Ann, and I decided to practice a bit more with aesthetic techniques.

 **Makoto** : Haru, you don’t mean-!?

 **Haru:** Yes… I took what one might call, a sexy photo!

 **Futaba** : WHOA!!

 **Ann** : OMG! wait, yu really did?

 **Haru** : I believe so? I tried my best, at least.

 **Haru** : I don’t know that I did a good job, but it certainly was fun! 

**Ann:** !!!! OMGOMG Haruuuu!

 **Makoto:** You’re not planning to send that photo to anyone, are you?

 **Haru** : Oh no, I just took it for myself, as Ann suggested.

 **Haru** : To tell the truth, though, I’ve been wondering what sort of feedback the picture would warrant. Would it be alright to share the photo here, with you all? 

Her friends—they just kept on finding new ways to surprise her. Ren blinks down at her phone in shock, watching as messages pour in faster than she can respond. 

**Haru** : I understand if that is an uncomfortable proposal. Please feel free to say no

 **Ann** : i’m down, duh of course! 

**Futaba** : (ಠ_ಠ)

 **Futaba** : jk idc ~(˘▾˘~)

 **Futaba:** kinda hard to believe u did that & seeing is believing!

 **Makoto:** I’m only uncomfortable at the prospect of this image being out of your control, Haru…

 **Makoto:** But I suppose we do have Futaba on our side to prevent any unwanted access and distribution...

 **Futaba** : mweh heh heh! 

**Futaba:** i’ll take down any threat to our precious nubile forms!!

 **Makoto:** Somehow, that response does not reassure me.

 **Ann:** AHAHA so not the way I thought we’d be using our hacker! but I won’t complain ^_^

 **Haru:** Ren? 

**Ren:** sorry, I’ve been doing chores

 **Ren:** no objections here 

**Makoto:** We all must promise to keep such things 100% secret, of course. This stays solely between the four of us and cannot leave the group chat.

 **Ann:** definitely!!

 **Ren:** agreed.

 **Futaba** : aye aye, captain!

 **Haru:** I am truly lucky to have such great friends. Thank you for being so understanding! 

**Futaba:** we are pretty great, huh?

 **Ann:** yeah but enough teasing, i wanna see !! 

Haru’s photo comes through a few seconds later as a media file, and in the few seconds it takes to download, Ren finds herself uncharacteristically nervous at the thought of seeing one of her friends in the nude. 

Which is… incredibly stupid, right? Don’t teenage girls do these types of things with one another all the time? 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if she’d had previous experience talking to other girls like this, but most of her friendships before the Tokyo move had been superficial and unfulfilling. Hardly friendships at all. 

Oh, man. What if she, the _leader_ of the Phantom Thieves, can’t even look one of her teammates in the face without feeling awkward because of a single harmless message? That would be—

The image pops up before Ren can have second thoughts and swipe away. Once again, she blinks down at her phone. 

Whatever she’d expected… this is not it. 

Haru seems to have taken the photo while standing at a window, one that overlooks the morning sky. She’s dressed in the day clothes she’d left the cafe in, only her jacket is left open to bunch around her waist. It… looks like she might have removed her skirt, but… her top is so long that it covers anything that might have given the photo a more suggestive vibe. Underneath, her tights hide any inch of skin that might have otherwise been visible. 

All in all, it’s an incredibly tame picture. For a brief, head-spinning moment, Ren isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. 

  
  


**~ Phantom Babes~**

**Ann** : wow, Haru, u look really pretty in that lighting

 **Ann:** ambiance totally on point

 **Makoto:** It is indeed a nice picture of the sky… I must admit, this isn’t quite what I had in mind when you said ‘sexy photo’

 **Futaba:** yeh it’s totally tame!! 

**Futaba** : but uh cute!

 **Ann:** i mean, the head tilt and doe-eyed look is a nice touch

 **Ren** : and looking straight into the camera, too. 

**Ren:** adds a sense of boldness

 **Haru:** Thank you! I wanted to try redefining what a sensual picture might look like, in my own way.

 **Haru:** I’m not sure I accomplished this, but like I said, it was fun to try.

 **Haru:** Most of all, I appreciate you all not making fun of me… I was a bit embarrassed

 **Makoto:** There is nothing to be embarrassed of, Haru.

 **Makoto:** Thank you for trusting us with something like this.

 **Futaba:** everyone starts out a noob its ok Haru! 

**Ren:** it’s cool that you took a chance on something new

 **Ann:** right!! that’s the whole point! didn’t you feel kinda powerful when you took that pic?

 **Haru** : As a matter of fact, I did! 

**Haru:** But I still feel as if the true essence of a ‘sexy photo’ is eluding me 

**Futaba:** u could always look it up, butttttt… 

**Futaba:** (ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻

 **Makoto:** Uh… what is that supposed to be, Futaba?

 **Ann:** i think she’s… flipping over a table? 

**Ren** : the look of someone who’s seen too much

 **Futaba:** ding ding ding! 

**Futaba** : winner winner chicken dinner!

 **Makoto** : It’s true that the Internet can be a dangerous place, especially if you don’t know what it is exactly that you’re searching for.

 **Ann** : well, how ’bout this! I could share my own photo?

 **Ann:** it’s only fair since Haru trusted us enough to share hers! 

Ren is still standing in the bathroom, and with the way this text conversation is going, she figures she’s going to remain standing here for quite a while. The last thing she wants is for Morgana to sneak downstairs while she’s not looking and accidentally see something he isn’t supposed to! 

She can clearly hear the door chime from in here, too. Nothing but uninterrupted silence. She’s in the clear. 

After another round of hush-hush agreements and consent, a new media file bounces through Ren’s chat box. This time, she doesn’t hesitate to click it, a smile blooming across her face. 

_Why is this... so fun?_

Ann’s picture is—well. It’s gorgeous. Almost unfairly so, and Ren isn’t usually the type to draw comparisons between herself and other girls. The blonde has her hair down for the shot, cascading in long waves down her back; she’s sitting facing the camera ( _had she put the phone on a timer?)_ with an air of total confidence, even though she’s only clothed in sparkly blue lingerie and a sheer kimono that’s draped around her shoulders, just barely falling over the cups of her bra. Her lower half is mostly hidden by the way she’s folded her legs, posing in a way that looks effortless and casual. Ann has her model face on in the picture, too: eyes focused, lips shining with gloss. 

She might as well have been the inspiration for the article they’d joked about last night. 

**~ Phantom Babes~**

**Futaba:** HOoooly cheese the moniez i could make from selling this pic!!!

 **Futaba:** full inventory! top shelf sashimi for days!

 **Makoto:** FUTABA don’t you dare!

 **Futaba:** course not! but dang Ann u really are a model! crazyyyy

 **Ann:** what do u mean ‘crazy’?! 

**Haru:** It’s true! You look every bit the empowered, sensual woman the article described! It’s very inspiring.

 **Ann:** thanks, Haru!! (✿◠‿◠)

 **Makoto** : I still can’t say I’m on board with taking these kinds of pictures, but… you really do look beautiful, Ann.

 **Ann:** awww, Makoto! 

**Futaba:** … bewbs

 **Ren:** very eloquent, Futaba

 **Makoto:** indeed… 

**Ren:** so Ann, you said ‘yes’ to Yusuke’s nude modeling proposal after all?

Ren snickers to herself as her friend shoots message after message of explicit denial in response to the teasing. She must have touched a sorer nerve then she thought, because soon enough, Ann is coming straight after her.

  
  


**~ Phantom Babes~**

**Ann** : anyway, i thought our fearless leader did everything first

 **Ann** : so… wheres YOUR sexy pic Ren?? huh?

 **Ann:** ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

 **Futaba:** ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

 **Ann:** ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

 **Futaba:** ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

 **Makoto:** Oh, dear.

 **Haru:** ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

 **Makoto:** Haru, not you, too!

 **Futaba** : join the dark side, Makoto

 **Makoto:** Absolutely not. 

**Ren:** can’t talk. busy working

 **Futaba:** lies!!! the cafe is dead in the water rn!!

 **Ann** : Ren’s too cool for us, girls

 **Ann:** she’d NEVER do something fun ;) like take a revealing pic of her collarbone ;) 

**Makoto:** Peer pressure?!

 **Futaba:** this just in folks, Ann Takamaki has a collarbone fetish

 **Ann:** no i DO NOT!!!! 

Ren is laughing, typing a snarky response out when a notification comes up on her screen and redirects her attention.

  
  


**Akechi** : Good morning, Ren. This may be an odd question, but did I happen to leave behind my red pen at the cafe the other day? 

**Akechi** : It might seem trivial, but that’s the best pen I have in my arsenal, and my work is suffering without it.

  
  


_Dramatic,_ Ren thinks, smiling wryly to herself. 

Maybe an excuse to text her? Or was that flattery on her part?

  
  


**Ren:** so why don’t you just go buy more of these incredible pens?

 **Akechi:** That’s the issue, isn’t it? I can’t seem to recall where I got it from originally, and there’s no brand name or logo on it that I can remember. 

**Ren:** I’ll look for your key item in just a moment, detective 

**Akechi:** Key item? Isn’t that some sort of video game reference? Sakura said something like that the other day.

  
  


Ann’s name shoots across the top of Ren’s phone then, a side note that she’s only teasing and doesn’t expect Ren to participate if she really doesn’t want to. 

_Who said she doesn’t want to?_

It may be the lack of sleep she got last night, or the good-natured goading in the group chat, but the idea of shutting Ann up with a surprising picture _does_ have a certain appeal. 

And anyways—it’s not like Ren is just a student, or just a thief, or just a reliable leader with supposed nerves of steel. 

She’s also a girl who remembers sneaking looks into her mother’s racy magazines when she was younger, studying the half-naked women plastered on the glossy pages and trying to commit to memory what makes a person _desirable._

Why not? There’s no one even here today.

And rushing into risky decisions just feels _so good._

Before she can ponder the matter further, Ren slides her phone onto the bathroom counter and starts to rearrange her clothing—drops her jacket to the floor (it’s sparkling clean, after all), pops open all the buttons on her shirt and pries it open. Takes a moment to survey her reflection. 

Her bra is decent enough, right? Plain and white and—nope. She unclasps the back hook, wiggles out of it from underneath her loose top and lets that fall too. 

Her shirt gapes open to reveal her cleavage and just a bit— _whoops,_ Ren adjusts the fabric to cover her nipple—just a _bit_ of sideboob, the curves beckoning precariously from their hiding spot.

Carefully, she sets her glasses next to her phone. 

Something’s missing. Ren turns slightly to the side and, after a moment of deliberation, tugs down on her jeans to bare her left hip bone, the side closest to the mirror. The new space between her shirt hem and pants reveals the flat slope of her lower stomach. 

As an afterthought, she hooks a finger through one of the black straps of her underwear and positions it to be just barely visible above her jeans. 

Not too bad. Didn’t even take long.

She’d pulled her hair back earlier to clean; now, Ren lets it fall and doesn’t fix the tousled curls that fan out wildly around her shoulders. Carefully, so as not to disrupt the image she’s created, she lifts up her phone, looks at the image on her screen, and hears the shutter sound of her camera go off.

A huff of laughter when she looks at the picture. 

It seems silly now that the planning and posing part is behind her. Looking at this photo of her, frozen in time, reminds her a little of trying on her mother’s high heels as a child and clomping around the house in them. A bit of play, make-believe. 

Though maybe she’s just being self-critical. It’s herself she’s looking at, after all. 

Maybe her friends would—

Embarrassingly, the idea of sending this to the “Phantom Babes” group chat makes her stomach dive unpleasantly. How did Haru and Ann have the guts to just toss their own pictures out like that? 

Maybe if it was just Ann who saw, and who could give her constructive feedback—like they were training their hearts—

Ren doesn’t mind that idea so much. Ann’s used to being around undressed women, being a model and all. And, with the way she’s still taunting Ren through texts, Ren figures it’s as good an excuse as any to hear back on her first “boudoir” attempt. If it could even be called that. 

Ren is in the middle of pulling up her most recent messages when the door chime goes off, loud and startling, and she has to scramble to catch her phone from shattering on the hard floor. 

“-’t believe I had to run all over Yongen-Jaya for a single damn—hey, kid? Where are you?”

“I-in the bathroom, Boss!” Oh, geez. Fuck. Her face is flaming hot. “Be right out!”

Holy shit, what timing. Hands trembling, Ren shoots off the picture as fast as she possibly can, fingers flying across the screen to add: “take this and shut up already.” 

Ann should find it funny. 

* * *

Over the course of the next half hour, Ren feels her phone vibrating almost nonstop in her jeans pocket. She refuses to check it, though, since Sojiro has only just returned. 

In the middle of an explanation about Cuban Crystal Mountain beans, Sojiro abruptly breaks off. “Hey, shouldn’t you answer that?” he asks, arching an impressive brow at Ren (she’d never admit it, but it’s Sojiro who inspired her to practice making the same expression in front of the mirror). 

“It’s probably just my friends goofing around,” Ren shrugs, but she slips out her phone all the same when Sojiro has turned his back to her. 

Yep. A ton of messages in varying group chats—the Phantom Babes, the regular old Phantom Thieves’ log, and, of course, the _extra-extra-secret_ anti-Akechi PT chat. 

It always makes her sad, to remember that such a thing needs to exist. 

Thoughts for another time. 

Ren is surprised to see that Ann hasn’t private messaged her back, considering she had—

Huh. Akechi has sent more, though. He doesn’t usually spam her with—

  
  


**Akechi:** If my earlier question annoyed you, Ren, you could have simply told me that.

 **Akechi:** Although, I’m curious. Do you typically use suggestive photos as a means to incite your friends into doing what you want?

Wha—!? 

Ren’s mouth drops open even before she scrolls back up to check—

_Oh._

_Oh my God._

And there it is—the picture. Sitting right there. 

In her’s and Goro- _FREAKING-_ Akechi’s chat history.

Goro.

Akechi.

Opened.

Read.

Her thoughts have short-circuited, so Ren replies the only way she can at the moment.

**Ren:** ALSKJEDOPSKLDFJKL

 **Ren:** HOLYALFLG

 **Ren:** HOLY shit wiat

  
  


“Sojiro,” she speaks aloud, channeling her inner- _everything_ to ensure her voice doesn’t waver. “Can I take a quick walk? I think Makoto’s about to call me to discuss something important.” 

Sojiro lets out a long _hmmm_ , staring her down until she feels a cold sweat forming on her forehead. To her immense relief, he waves a hand, letting loose an easy smile. “Sure thing, kid, just don’t be gone too long—might need you with all these rambunctious customers around, eh?” 

Ren offers him a weak chuckle before slipping out of the cafe, heart thundering in her chest. She grasps her phone with both hands, holding it tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Her thoughts are still a monotonous chorus of _Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygo_ — 

Akechi has already responded.

  
  


**Akechi:** I suppose you’ve had a misfire, then? 

**Akechi:** Please do be more careful in the future when sending such... intimate content. 

**Ren:** Akechi i am so, so sorry

 **Ren:** i really didnt mena to send this to you and i woudltn

 **Ren:** i wouldnt send you something unsolicited i hope you know tat

 **Akechi:** Typos.

  
  


Is he serious?! She is _freaking out_ and he just—

Ren stops walking (she’d been marching down the street blindly, totally absorbed into her phone screen) and takes a deep, deep breath. 

  
  


**Ren:** I apologize

 **Ren:** not for the typos, for the picture

  
  


Even with the initial shock ebbing, Ren’s heartbeat still echoes in her ears. How incredibly careless of her. It’s one thing to receive a photo of someone like that, unasked for—but what if he had been at work? At school, even? His reputation—what if someone had—

  
  


**Akechi:** It’s alright, Ren. I was only teasing you. 

**Akechi:** Though I do hope this incident will prevent any future accidents, yes?

  
  


So he—isn’t disgusted with her now, right?

That thought, and the one that follows, makes Ren release a shaky breath of laugher—more a small puff of air, a little tension released.

He’s currently carrying out an intricate plan to _murder_ her, and here she is, worried about his personal opinion on her character. 

Well, it’s not like it’s the _first_ time she's marveled at that particular realization. 

  
  


**Akechi:** I hope the person that you initially intended to send this to won’t be upset about the, ah, additional eyes that saw it.

  
  


A shiver runs down Ren’s spine, despite the pleasantly warm air. 

Why did he have to word it like that? Drawing attention to his eyes on her—

 _Stop it,_ she tells herself. 

  
  


**Ren:** I highly doubt that. It was more a fluke test than anything.

 **Akechi:** ?

 **Ren:** long story… 

  
  
  


She should ask him to delete the image now, right? That seems like the appropriate next action. Somehow, the thought fills her with fresh embarrassment—like she was gifting him something just to yank it back.

Wait—gifting? Did _Akechi_ think of her picture as a gift? 

No way.

But why isn’t he making the offer to delete it? Now that she thinks about it, it seems in line with his gentlemanly character to assure her of its nonexistence right away. 

And yet… 

  
  


**Akechi:** An interesting one, I’m sure, if that photo is anything to go off by.

 **Akechi:** I have to make sure of something, though, and I hope you’ll forgive me for asking… however… 

  
  


Ren watches as Akechi types, anxiety spiking the longer the bubbles move about on screen. She hisses a curse under her breath when they disappear, only to pop up again a moment later, like he can’t decide how to word what he wants to say. 

_What did he want to say?_

  
  


**Akechi:** Ren, you’re not being blackmailed for lewd photos, are you?

  
  


Wh—

_Blackmailed?_

Ren stares down at her screen for a few beats, and then for another, before releasing a startled burst of laughter. Nearby, the mailman pauses in completing his rounds and gives her a lingering, baffled stare before moving on. 

  
  


**Ren:** uh, no???

 **Ren:** why would you assume something like that? 

**Akechi:** ‘take this and shut up already'

 **Akechi:** Your accompanying message provided an ambiguous context to the nature of the exchange.

 **Akechi:** I… apologize if my deduction was incorrect.

  
  


Oof. She’s really dug herself into a hole with this one, hasn’t she? 

She wonders if she should just be honest with the detective, tell him about the game she and her friends have been playing since reading that stupid article. It isn’t like he would track down the images she spoke of to try and hurt the other Phantom Thieves… right?

Probably not, but now that she’s thinking about it, better safe than sorry. She’ll prod Futaba into adding an extra layer of safety to that group chat if possible. It’s one thing to put _herself_ at risk, another to endanger the futures of the other girls. 

  
  


**Ren:** the reasoning is super embarrassing

 **Akechi:** Oh?

 **Ren:** i was sending it to Ann

 **Ren:** for feedback

 **Ren:** a totally platonic thing

  
  


Oh god, and she’d already shot off that last text. This day really can’t get any worse, can it? Ren wonders if she can find a nice little manhole to slip into and never return from. 

  
  


**Ren:** in response to a conversation we’d had earlier

  
  


_Alright, Ren, that’s enough. You’re cut off._

Akechi isn’t even responding anymore, just reading the messages she keeps sending in quick succession. 

Granted, she isn’t giving him much opportunity to reply. 

  
  


**Akechi:** Huh. 

**Akechi:** I’m still not sure I understand, but I’m relieved.

  
  


_Relieved?_

That she wasn’t being blackmailed, she figures. 

  
  


**Akechi:** Anyways, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. 

**Ren:** well it was that or coffee grounds in your drinks for the rest of your days, so

 **Akechi:** Or not looking for my pen, like I asked so nicely earlier? :)

  
  


Ah, this is much more familiar territory. And look—he’s even allowed the rare use of emojis, perhaps to put her at ease. 

They assume a comfortable banter while Ren begins the walk back to Leblanc, much calmer than how she’d left it. The embarrassment from the whole debacle is still present, but no longer crushing her where she stands; Ren can actually breathe again.

Still—she notices he never did offer to delete the picture. 

She could ask, but…

A lopsided smile pulls at her face. No. She doesn’t think she will.


	2. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren thinks too much.
> 
> Akechi receives unsolicited dating advice. 
> 
> The red pen is held hostage.

For as long as she can remember, Ren has been the appointed keeper of secrets. 

When her schoolmates would argue, Ren was the one they’d drag into the middle of things. She was the outlet they’d use to cry—seethe—curse—rant… even, on the rare occasion, beat a clumsy fist against. 

Through it all, she’d borne their moods and outbursts with kind eyes, her signature calm demeanor. And afterwards, when the confessor had finally spent their frustrations, they might grace her with a single acknowledgement— _“You’re so easy to talk to, Amamiya”_ —before tossing her back into the pit of social isolation she’d dwelled in for most of her life. 

Ren liked being useful to others. It was the only time she didn’t feel so utterly alone. 

But then, the incident. 

The street. The night. The man. 

And no one had believed her story, not even her own parents— _“Where did we go wrong?”_ —

So she’d been shipped away, and the issue of secrets-keeping had both resolved and confounded itself.

Here, finally, Ren had made friends. _Real_ friends. People she knew cared for her, who would never purposely strike her in a fit of misdirected anger. 

The Phantom Thieves—no, not only them, but _all_ of the confidants she had gained since moving to Tokyo—they had her back. That was a gift Ren would never take for granted.

And yet.

Despite the genuine nature of these bonds… Ren found herself occupying the role of counselor more than ever before. 

The matters she’d been asked to take on were no longer the mere, fleeting whims of slighted schoolgirls. No, she had somehow become entrenched in a world of horrific debts and deaths, of illnesses and accusations, underground battles, endless _traps_. 

Ren housed dark secrets within herself, and each story—each burden she accumulated only increased the weight that hung permanently from her shoulders. 

She liked being useful. 

But sometimes it was all just too much.

So, yes—Ren is no stranger to keeping secrets, but something she’s learned over the past twenty-four hours is that keeping her own secrets is a much more difficult task. 

It isn’t so much the weight of the secret so much as the itchiness in keeping it disclosed, in not pulling someone aside to say, “You’ll never believe what I did yesterday…” 

It’s strange, really. Ren has never once been tempted to share the details of her friends’ deepest, darkest secrets, but she sends _one slightly revealing photo_ to the wrong person and suddenly she’s… 

She’s typing, once again, a text message to Ann. Only to, once again, delete it letter by letter. 

It’s not, exactly, that she doesn’t trust her friends to keep quiet on the matter. 

Ren has run through all the scenarios, and she’s identified three possible reasons for wanting to keep the whole misfire incident a secret.

The first: her friends (particularly, Ann and Makoto) are _not_ good actors. Not even in the slightest. She can just imagine it now: the overtly obvious looks they’d exchange at the next PT meeting the instant Akechi were to speak directly to Ren. The embarrassment, knowing that _he_ would know she’d been talking about it with them. The sheer idea of it all makes Ren cringe in real time. No, no, absolutely not—no sharing with the girls as a whole. 

The second reason: It feels unfair to dump even more Akechi-related information on Futaba and Haru. Those two have every reason to hate him, and Ren knows that they only tolerate his presence for the sake of their mission. She’s proud of the roles they play when Akechi is near, convincingly laidback despite being forced to cooperate with their parents’ killer. It would be insulting to ask them to hide even _more_ from his sharp gaze. 

And anyways, her “thing” is hardly of significance compared to the conspiracy the gang had recently found themselves sucked into. Which brings her to…

Three: _It doesn’t matter_. 

Ren knows she’s making a huge deal out of nothing. Maybe things could have been different, if she—or rather, if they: her and Akechi, and all the others—had been different. 

If life were nothing more than grades and coffee beans and worrying about college… 

But of course, they aren’t those people anymore, and life is hardly so simple. Their near-future consists of intricately-planned deceptions, and the fallout could bring their lives to a halt. Death, arrests... those threats loom closer by the day.

A single compromising picture holds no weight to that reality.

Which is why Ren needs to _crush this down_ , get over it already. She just isn’t used to having secrets of her own—that’s all it is, surely. 

The next hideout meeting is tomorrow. She doesn’t have much time before coming face-to-face with the boy making her stomach twist into unfamiliar knots, and she’s worried she’ll give something away—a look, or a pause—that will reveal just how flustered she still is. 

_Flustered_ is not something Ren wants to ever be known as. 

* * *

It’s a slow-moving Monday, one of those days that feels long and a bit dreamy. Maybe it’s the warm front they’ve had lately. Ren prefers the chill, but her classmates and teachers seem to be in high spirits. 

After class, Ren stops by Dr. Maruki’s office to chat about his research progress. His eyes are sparkling the whole time; he’s close, he says, to a major breakthrough that will improve the lives of many people. Ren grants him a soft smile in return, but on the inside, her heart is swelling. She wishes there were more adults in her life as genuinely concerned about others as the man who will, regretfully, be leaving Shujin within the next few weeks. 

She takes the long way home that evening. The sun is already dipping beneath the horizon, casting everything in romantic golden tones. The owner of the secondhand shop calls out and waves to her in passing, and Ren can’t help but feel a rush of contentment when she, after a brief hesitation, returns his greeting. 

Back in Inaba, no one ever went out of their way to talk to Ren unless they wanted something from her. 

She hadn’t even been in Tokyo for very long, and yet… 

Everything is so different. The way she’d always imagined it could be.

Ren’s in a pleasant mood as she swings through the front door of Leblanc, hefting Morgana against her side and humming with the entrance chime—

Her thoughts squeal to an abrupt stop.

Akechi is seated at the bar, a half-drunk coffee cup plated before him. Despite the open book in his left hand, he’s fixed squarely on her, as if he’d anticipated her appearance. Probably saw her through the glassy panes when she’d stopped for a moment to admire the sunset. 

His eyes crinkle charmingly as he throws her a warm smile. “Welcome back, dear.”

It’s a game they play. 

Ren herself had unknowingly initiated it with that cheeky, _“honey, I’m home!”_

Meaningless. Harmless.

Unfortunately, the events of yesterday have left her hopelessly depleted in the face of his mock affection. All she can manage is the automatic grin that always accompanies his specific brand of teasing.

Lucky for her, Sojiro has never been one to beat around the bush. 

Stepping out from the kitchen, the older man _hmph_ ’s and fixes Ren with a steely glare. “And where have you been? I coulda used your help a good hour or two ago, you know.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Ren responds, breezing past the bar stools (and Akechi). “Kawakami kept us a little bit longer, and then Dr. Maruki and I got carried away talking about his research…”

Sojiro's eyes soften at the mention of her school life. “Guess I can’t get mad at you for talking to your teachers,” he relents, his awkward smile helping to soothe Ren’s frazzled nerves. 

She sets her bag down near the sink, letting Morgana pop out with an exaggerated stretch. “I’ll be right back,” she promises, glancing at Akechi over her shoulder as she moves towards the attic. “And I’ll get you a fresh cup.”

Akechi smiles and flips his book up in response, like a half-hearted salute. 

* * *

Immersed in the task of cleaning dishes and refilling water tanks, Ren can’t even be upset about Akechi’s presence. It’s such an Akechi thing to do, after all—of course he would show up a day early, totally unannounced. 

They were similar in that regard, weren’t they? Working to surprise one another whenever possible. 

She can feel his eyes on her back as she flits to and fro behind the counter, switching from one task to the next. Months of experience have made her movements precise and fluid, even as her unfocused mind spins. 

Another thing she’s grateful for on this day: a (shockingly) steady flow of customers. Sojiro really hadn’t been kidding about needing her help. 

A lone, elderly woman Ren has spoken to a few times is sitting at the bar today, just two seats down from the detective. Every time she glances over in their direction, she can’t help but press her lips together to suppress a laugh. 

She knows that part of the reason Akechi enjoys sitting there—besides having closer proximity to her—is because it affords him space from the other usual patrons. She can only imagine how bitter he is, having that space encroached upon by some random stranger.

Akechi catches her looking and gives a sharp, knowing smirk. 

Ren just returns it. 

“Excuse me, dearie,” the woman—Ren scrambles to recall her name, if she’d ever given it—gently calls her over. “May I have another one of those mochas? You make them so wonderfully.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Decaf?” 

With the woman’s approval, Ren locates the chocolate powder and sets to work on a new drink, quickly losing herself in the simple steps. 

She’s worked plenty of jobs before; she knows how easily anything becomes muscle memory. The ease never guarantees fun, though, or satisfaction, or any of the things working at Leblanc gives her. 

That sweet feeling of _rightness_. Of being at home. 

It’s hard to remember a time when ‘home’ didn’t conjure the smell of coffee and curry. The scratching sound of pencils on crossword puzzles, the squeaking of booth seats. The way calm gave way to liveliness whenever her friends came over, draped themselves around the cafe as if they’d always done so…

“Here you go,” Ren says, sliding the fresh coffee to the kindly lady. 

The woman cups her hands around her mug and beams gratefully at Ren. “Thank you, love, smells good.” 

She directs her next statement to Sojiro, who’s just finished putting the finishing touches on someone’s curry order. “It must be difficult for you, Sakura, having to fight off all the young men competing for her heart.” 

A strange sound comes from Ren’s side—something between a snort and a light cough. When she meets Akechi’s eyes, he just shoots her a wry grin. 

“Oh yeah, it’s a real headache,” Sojiro sighs theatrically. “Have to practically beat ’em out the door.” 

Ren _does_ snort at that one, turning to take Akechi’s empty cup. She signals to ask if he’d like another; he shakes his head, but makes no further move to leave. 

“Courtship is a beautiful thing,” the older woman muses aloud, clearly lost in some old memory or daydream. She shifts in her seat then, turning to address Akechi. “Young man, are you in a relationship?” 

Akechi’s resulting laughter is airy and bright—the shackles of his fake public persona only a cold glint in his eyes. “I can’t say that I am.”

“Well,” continues the woman, leaning forward (and Ren thinks of the dangers in cornering a coiled serpent), “when you pursue the object of your affections, make sure you give it all you’ve got. Don’t hold anything back, you hear? Boys nowadays think that acting aloof will win a girl’s heart, but they’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got to really _wow_ your lady to _woo_ her, understand?” 

Akechi’s eyes wash over Ren so quickly, she thinks she must have imagined it. 

“Understood,” he smiles, polite as can be. 

“No kidding,” Sojiro shakes his head, having listened in on the woman’s speech. “Just the other day, this one—” he jabs his thumb at Ren, “found a love letter in her locker. Flowery as can be, right? But get this, the poor guy had—”

“Boss,” Ren interrupts. Since when had Sojiro become so chatty during work hours?

“Oh, c’mon, kid! You didn’t let me get to the best part—what was it? ‘ _Ebony curls spilling like midnight_ —’”

" _Sojiro_ ," Ren hisses, as quietly as she possibly can. Her cheeks are aflame now, and that, paired with the way she says his name, finally shuts the man up. 

She hadn’t wanted to tell him about the letter in the first place, but Morgana had seized it with his teeth and dropped it on the counter when she’d come home that day. It was embarrassing—not just because of its contents (full of basic spelling errors, and an obvious rip-off of a Shakespearean poem), but because she figured her locker hadn’t been it’s intended designation. 

I mean, there was just no way it had been written for _her_. 

Anyway, plenty of girls had dark hair and glasses. 

“Like midnight,” Akechi repeats softly. Ren whirls on him, but his eyes are glued to the counter’s polished wood, where his fingers tap out an irregular beat. 

“That sounds romantic,” the old woman grins encouragingly at Ren, not realizing how many brownie points she’s lost in a single visit. “You ought to track down whoever wrote you that note.”

“It’s fine,” Ren says, looking for something to busy her hands with. “I don’t have time for dating right now.” 

“That’s right,” Sojiro nods, a hint of pride in his voice. “Top of her class. And guess whose food _fuels_ all that brain power?”

The conversation takes a much safer turn then, allowing Ren a much-needed respite. _Honestly_ , she thinks, _what is going on?_ It’s not every day she gets so ruffled. 

If she’s poised to die soon, can’t she at least keep her regular routine?

After finishing her second mocha, the intrusive (well-intentioned, Ren mentally corrects) woman takes her leave with a final piece of advice: “Live every day like it’s your last, kiddos,” she winks, hobbling out of the cafe.

_Too soon_ , Ren wants to quip. 

When even Sojiro has called it a day, stepping outside to take a smoke, she wonders how much longer Akechi plans on staying. He answers her unspoken question just a moment later with a shutting of his novel. 

“It’s already so dark outside,” he marvels, gazing out through the door’s panes. “I suppose I’d best be on my way, as well.” 

When he turns back to look at Ren, the glint in his eyes—the flash of ice she sees only when he behaves as the Detective Prince—is gone, replaced by the teasing spark he reserves for her alone. “And my pen?”

“Your—? Oh!” A sheepish look comes over Ren’s face. “I, ah, forgot to—”

“No, it’s alright,” Akechi interrupts her, shaking his head ruefully. “I see what’s going on here.”

Ren lifts an eyebrow, choosing to wait for the punchline. 

When she doesn’t rise to his bait, Akechi looks up and grins. “You’re holding it hostage after what happened yesterday.”

Ren almost chokes, but instead opts for dropping the towel with which she’s been drying pots. “I wouldn’t do that,” she retorts, proud when there’s no stammer. “I… appreciate the value of good writing utensils.” 

Akechi laughs openly at that, seemingly surprised by her response; his head tilts up, even, revealing a hint of his Adam’s apple. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ren is remembering some fact she’d heard in class, about body language and how the baring of one’s throat is a symbol of trust.

Vulnerability. 

She hates these moments. All these little moments he gives her. 

It would all be so much easier without them.

“That’s good to know,” he says, still chuckling, as he fits his book into his bag. “Well, if you can’t find it, no worries. I’ll just have to do a bit of scouting next time I’m at the stationary store.” 

“I could give you one of my pens,” Ren offers, “but I don’t think it would suit your standards.”

Akechi just looks at her for a moment, as if considering. “You don’t have to,” he says, though she gets the feeling he wanted to say something else. 

“Hold on a second—”

Ren whips her apron off and slings it onto the counter before vaulting up the stairs, unable to hear the huff of laughter that trails after her. 

Her desk is a mess of objects: pens and pencils, sticky notes, string, various cords and wires, locks, and all other manner of Metaverse paraphernalia. Yes, she has plenty she could offer Akechi, but—

She hadn’t really expected him to say ‘yes,’ but she’d had a specific pen in mind to give, just in case.

Ren rockets downstairs and comes to a light stop before Akechi, whose expression looks uncharacteristically soft. “Here,” she says, handing the tool over. Their fingers brush, and even through the fabric of his gloves, she can feel the heat from his palms soak into her skin. 

“Thank yo—” Akechi breaks off with a confused squint, drawing the pen closer to his face for scrutiny. “Is that… what I think it is?” 

The end of the pen is bulbed with a surprisingly heavy Jack Frost head. The phrase “He ho!” is also printed in different fonts and sizes all over the decorative plastic. 

Ren swears she sees Akechi’s eye twitch, just a little. 

She smiles brightly at him. “It writes really well.” 

“I’m… sure it does,” he responds faintly, still examining the pen as if it’ll transform at any moment into the Shadow itself. With a clearing of his throat, he slides the atrocious thing into his bag and gives Ren a weary—but, she sees too, genuinely amused—look. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

“Trust me,” he promises as he turns to leave. “I won’t.”

* * *

Ren finds the red pen only minutes after she and Sojiro turn the sign on the cafe door to ‘CLOSED.’ It was hidden under one of her couch cushions, and she wonders briefly how it even turned up there—maybe Futaba or one of the others had been playing with it. 

Tomorrow’s order of business: Palace infiltration. Shadow-fighting techniques. Stealing other people’s favorite pens. 

Before she turns in for bed, Ren sends Akechi a picture. She’s grinning at the camera, holding the pen up near her face triumphantly. “i see why you like this thing so much,” she types. “think im gonna use it from now on to proofread Ryuji’s english essays.” 

Her phone _pings_ in quick succession. 

**Akechi** : Please don’t subject the pen to such a fate. It hasn’t done anything wrong. 

**Akechi** : And would you look at that? Fully clothed for this one. 

Ren’s face is hot, hot, _hot_. 

  
  


**Ren:** !!!

**Ren:** rude

**Akechi:** I’m sorry, Ren. Would you prefer I wax poetic over your ebony hair?

Oh, she’s going to _kill_ him tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ren: Thank god for planned meetings.  
> Akechi: Surprise, shawty!

**Author's Note:**

> I have shed an embarrassing amount of tears over Persona 5. Have laid awake for countless nights in unbearable angst. And yet here is my longest Persona piece to date… and it’s a fic about, essentially, sexting. 
> 
> Ah… we take inspiration where we find it. 
> 
> Sidenote: I didn’t expect the sleepover details/girls' chat to dominate this piece, so I’ll probably be adding additional chapters later on!


End file.
